Disclaimer to any random surfer who lands here looking for you know what: those are TOMATO plants behind the old bag, aka KW. You won’t find what you’re looking for here. Move on please.

Just a minute. Roomba! You are supposed to be vacuuming the living room! Get back out there!! Sorry about that. What is this world coming to? Musheens are taking it over!

Anyway, Lizard Breath took this picture and I kind of like it even though I look like someone’s grandmother or something. Fer kee-reist, I don’t even feel *old* enough to be a grandma yet, even though I know plenty of people far younger than me who are grandparents. (Note to beach urchins: that is NOT a hint!) I doubt that *my* grandma ever struck quite the same pose as I do in the photooo. iPhone? Say what? I wonder what my grandma would’ve done with an iPhone. She’d’ve checked the Sault Ste. Siberia high school honor roll fer sher. [wink]

I own something like four (count ’em) tie-dyed t-shirts and believe me, when I come home from a day of biz-caz, they are part of my uniform. I usually wear them with ripped up old black leggings or shorts, depending on the season. I do not do the pastel thing very well. Basic black spiced up with some color or a riot of color. Either or. Those are the choices. Jay, thanks for sending me the tie-dyed tshirt I left at your house in September. I love you.

I have lived on The Planet Ann Arbor for over 30 years now. I have only been “accused” of being an “Ann Arbor hippie” a few times and a couple of those accusations occurred before I moved here. I actually don’t mind that particular accusation, as inaccurate as it is. When I was a teenager in the rugged outpost of Sault Ste. Siberia, I soooo wanted to be “cool” and hippies were cool and so I wanted to be one. (Oh man, now I am yelling at Roomba. She *is* rebellious today.) But I wasn’t a hippie and I never really had the “chops” to be a hippie but here I am umpteen bazillion years later looking for all the world like a baggy old Planet Ann Arbor hippie. Oh by the way, most of the people I know here on The Planet grow TOMATOES in their back yards too and were never hippies and *never* dress anywhere near as nuttily as I am dressed in that photoooo…

Where the heck was I? I dunno. Our young neighbor is running a power washer for the second evening in a row. The noise is annoying and for a while we thought it was somehow cutting out our usual Sunday night folk music radio out of Moo-U’s public radio station. It turns out that the radio station is having technical difficulties. I don’t like listening to the power washer but there is no way I’m gonna complain. 1) I am not the neighborhood crank and 2) he’s washing Burke’s Erection tonight. I bet it needs a good wash. Oh, and the beautiful daughter of the folks across the street turned 22 today. I remember when she turned five and they hired a pot-bellied pig for entertainment. Not this time, said the birthday girl.

After much research and deliberation and angst and hand-wringing, I planted some special dahlias today. Fingers crossed that Black Thumb Banana’s gardening curse takes a vacation.

Good night. Get back out there Roooomba.
KW, the baggy old Ann Arbor hippie… or not…

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